"His Majesty, King Oberon!" the herald announced as the grand hall’s massive doors swung open.
Instantly, the ministers and high lords fell to their faces, prostrating in reverence. King Oberon’s presence was commanding, his face a mask of serene authority that radiated power and evoked envy. His gaze remained fixed ahead, ignoring the bowed heads of his subjects as he walked the ceremonial path toward his throne.
Trailing behind King Oberon were his three sons, each embodying the dignity and grace of their royal lineage. The eldest, Prince Theodore, with his green hair and formal attire, wore a perpetual frown, as though locked in a personal battle with the world. Beside him, Andre, usually the epitome of warmth and charm, had adopted a rare seriousness, reflecting the gravity of the occasion.
Crown Prince Valerie, with a stern expression, seemed ready for war, his demeanor adding to the room’s already tense atmosphere.
Together, they formed a formidable presence. Their synchronized steps and unwavering expressions projected a powerful image, as if they were capable of defeating any foe and bringing them down to their feet.
The sight of the royal family, united and formidable, only heightened the sense of awe and trepidation among the gathered ministers and high lords. As King Oberon ascended the throne, his sons, Andre and Theodore, moved to stand beside the lords and ministers, their faces showing complete indifference.
Crown Prince Valerie, however, joined his father on the dais, taking his place beside King Oberon. His chair, slightly smaller than the King’s, underscored his role as the heir apparent. Valerie’s stern gaze swept the room, reinforcing the weight of his position and the unity of the royal family. Their presence, resolute and imposing, set an unmistakable tone of seriousness and power within the grand hall.
"You may rise," King Oberon declared, his voice resonating through the hall. The assembly obediently stood, their eyes filled with apprehension and tension as they awaited the king’s words.
They looked around the grand hall, eyes darting between one another. Each had heard whispers of the news and knew it was the reason for this sudden assembly. Low murmurings began to rise, a chorus of anxious speculation.
"Thank you for honoring this assembly," King Oberon began, his voice cutting through the noise. "I’m sure you all have heard the sorrowful news that has befallen our kingdom, which is why I will get straight to the point." The noise only grew louder.
"Silence!" Prince Valerie boomed, his authoritative voice echoing through the hall. A heavy silence fell over the assembly.
King Oberon continued, his steely gaze sweeping across his ministers, holding their eyes as he spoke. "We have lost a promising Fae and my would-have-been daughter-in-law to the cold hands of death...."
As the King spoke, the grand hall’s doors burst open. Heads turned to see Lord Raysin, his wife Juan, and other members of their household entering. What stunned everyone was Queen Maeve leading them. Elegantly poised yet radiating a palpable fury, it was clear she had come prepared for confrontation. As she stepped into the center of the hall, the high lords and ministers bowed their heads. Even the princes inclined their heads in respect, all except King Oberon, whose authority remained paramount. King Oberon and Queen Maeve locked gazes, a crackling tension filling the space between them.
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